This is for the May Fanfiction Tournament Round 1 – Marauder Era.

Also for Sam to make up for the lack of Wolfstar during the last round of The Hunger Games Competition. ;)

It's two in the morning and you're still awake, and you can hear everything. It's the sound of insomnia, of an occasional owl as it passes the window, the creak of the Whomping Willow in the distance. It's the sound of your own heartbeat as it pulses angrily against your ribcage because you're thinking and regretting. And sulking.

("You always were a bloody child, weren't you, Sirius?")

You hear Remus' steady, steady breaths from a four poster over and you can't take it anymore. You can't take the loudness of this silence, the weight of it crushing you like an avalanche you caused the night you called werewolf on Severus Snape.

It had happened too fast like most disasters do. There'd been a lot of running and then the paralyzing horror of realization, and luckily James had kept his wits about him. But you? You'd just stood back, ashamed and in awe of your own stupidity.

("What the hell were you thinking?")

And when he was human again, Remus had looked at you like he'd never seen you before.

But the worst of it was, he didn't yell.

No. He never yells.

He just looked disappointed.

("I thought you'd know better than this.")

You can't take not talking to your best friend. You can't take the awkward glances and the uncertain gestures. You can't take the distance. He's the only could have been you ever cared about and he's right fucking there and there's nothing you can do.

Or at least, that's how you've been looking at it for weeks, but the last full moon, you spent the night in this dormitory alone and like hell if you'll do it again.

So you stop thinking and start doing because that's how you got into this mess in the first place. Your feet hit the floor, and suddenly, you're pulling aside the curtains of his four poster. Before he can say a word, your hand is over his mouth and perhaps that's not the best way to start off an apology, but then again, you haven't had much practice. Something tells you he knows because he doesn't look too offended.

"Remus," you whisper. "Moony."

And then your brain is saying stupid, stupid, stupid but your mouth is saying I love you before you can stop yourself. And that's also probably not the best way to start an apology, but it's too late to take it back and really, you don't want to.

"I love you and I'm sorry. You know I'm sorry, don't you?"

He nods his head, wide eyed but not angry which is encouraging, so you continue.

"I don't expect you to forgive me. But I really need you to because…because…" Because why? Why should he? You haven't thought this through. Not at all. "I just do, all right?"

You remove your hand from his mouth and sit on the edge of the bed, staring at your feet. He sits up and you feel him move to sit beside you, but now that you've looked away, you're a bit embarrassed to face him again. But soon you don't have a choice. He presses his forehead to yours and there's a shadow of a smile about his lips because how could he keep a straight face at a moment like this?

"I'll forgive you if you say it again," he says.

"I'm sorry," you say quickly. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so-"
"No," he interrupts. "The other thing."

"I love you?" you say sheepishly, hoping that really is what he means. And then his lips are on yours, assuaging all your doubts.

"I've missed you," he says into your mouth. "I'm sorry, too. I love you, too."

You never imagined forgiveness could taste this sweet. But considering it's Remus you feel like you probably should have known.

And later, you finally fall asleep with your head against his chest, exactly where you've always belonged, and all you hear now are his steady, steady breaths, his heart beating in time with yours, the ghost of a last I love you before he drifts off to sleep.

And insomnia doesn't make a sound.